


From Them, To Us (our known constant)

by TheCarrot



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Archeology, Alternate Universe - Historical, Ancient Roma, Gladiator Poe Dameron, M/M, Past Lives, Pompeii, Rich Finn, Still has a happy ending though, but rather a lonely woman with access to the internet and wine, history is no longer written by the winners, the character death is because their ancient selves are in Pompeii...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:36:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCarrot/pseuds/TheCarrot
Summary: Finn is running.--Fidenziano is running.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 14
Kudos: 37





	From Them, To Us (our known constant)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AgrippaSpoleto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgrippaSpoleto/gifts).



> So! About back in...September I believe, Agrippa did some wonderful artwork for my Panther Poe series and in return I said I would write her a fic! THIS IS THAT FIC!!! I'm so sorry it took so long, and I tried to keep it at least somewhat accurate to history, (I likely failed but alas) it's more of a love story wrapped up in another really sad love story? Historical boys in love anyone?
> 
> This easily wouldn't have existed if not for Mssrj! They were my sounding board and wrote a good chunk of the stuff set in the past and I honestly can not thank you enough! 
> 
> Anything in Italics is set in the past, while the normal font is the modern part where the boys are archaeologists.. digging up their past selves.... *thumbs up??*

Finn is running.

He makes his way along the sidewalk as fast as he can, dodging strollers and tourists alike, even darting in front of a small Fiat that honks at him angrily, a fist and curse words shouted out a window that Finn ignores in his haste to cross the street. Finally he spots the figure he was looking for, splayed out in front of a small cafe, head tilted back into the bright sun and likely still half hungover as his sunglasses slip down the bridge of his ample nose.

“POE! POE!” 

Hazy brown eyes snap upwards and Poe smiles at his running husband over the rim of his aviators. “Finn! There you are, I was starting to-“ 

“Nevermind that!” Finn demands, throwing himself into the small rickety chair on the other side of Poe’s table, and then almost completely out of it as his momentum carries him. He slams the tablet he had been carrying down onto the table, almost knocking into Poe’s empty cappuccino cup.

Poes hand shoots out, saving the small ceramic cup from its broken fate. “Whoa, whoa, where’s the fire?”

Finn flips the tablet around on the table only to hear his husband groan. “You need to see this!” 

“Finn, babe, we just got into Naples yesterday, we’re not due on site until tomorrow.” Poe shoves his glasses up into his hair with a sigh. “ can’t this… wait…” Brown eyes blink slowly as Poe finally glances down at the screen and his words peter out. He glances up at his husband for a quick moment and can see Finn practically vibrating in his chair before pulling the tablet towards him for a closer look. 

“Who?” Starts Poe.

“Rose sent it to me this morning! Her and Kaydel were using the GPR on the grid I laid out for them before-“

“Before we left,” the older man finished easily. “The section at the end of what you and Organa suspect to be a road-“

Finn reaches forward to swipe to another readout of data on the tablet and grins widely. “Not suspected anymore. Soil samples and further analysis of the GPR reflection profiles clearly show compacted organics under the volcanic materials, groves congruent with the spacing of-“

“Okay, okay.” Poe laughs cutting the younger man off before Finn can spoil the rest of the reports for him. He gets to his feet and loops an arm through Finns when his husband follows him up and Poe starts back towards their hotel still pouring over the data. The sheer size of this place. “This isn’t just anybody's place.”

Finn shakes his head, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Nope.”

“This is crazy, look at the dimensions of this thing.” Poe laughs, “Please tell me Organa is already talking to the Cultural Minister?”

“Leia is already talking to the Cultural Minister.” Finn tells him. “She’s also offered to fund the entire excavation so we can take the proper measures and focus on restoration and maintenance over the next several years.”

“And that’s why the Italian government hates our boss.” Poe muses, finally closing the tablet, Finn's excitement already making him want to get to work. “I’m sure Organa would sponsor all of Pompeii’s maintenance if they’d let her.” He tosses a grin at his husband. “You rubbed off on your mom, she used to be all about the Mesopotamians.”

Finn rolls his eyes, even if it is a little true. “I think Leia just doesn’t like to see any part of history left to neglect.”

“Well, that’s where we come in sweetheart.” Poe chuckles, pressing a kiss to his husband's cheek and passing back the tablet. “Send me that?”

“Rose already did.” 

\--

_Fidenziano is running._

_The streets are near empty around him, many shop doors closed and people slowly making their way towards the near edge of the city._

_He should not be running, such a hurry unfit for someone of his status, but his father's wagon had left without him, so absorbed in his current project that Fidenziano almost missed the time completely._

_The crowd around the coliseum is large, the first showing of the fighters always draws everyone away from their day, and he is no exception. Festivities throughout the day to welcome those back who had been lucky enough to escaped the heat of the summer, and Fidenziano picks up his pace, stairs flying by under his sandals and robes flying out behind him as he waves to the guards on his way to his normal seat in the upper rungs. A small bout is planned for the day, before the entertainment of the gladiators at the feast later nearer the night._

_However none of that is why Fidenziano runs so quickly._

_News had spread of the return of Pollione from Roma, and Fidenziano feels his heart skip at the thought. The gladiator who had captured his heart and muse so quickly, with his face likeness none seen outside of marble and eyes as dangerous and stopping as the ocean, an image of a man blessed by the heavens that his own hands have worked tirelessly to capture in paint and clay._

_Fidenziano slips past the partition that keeps his father's party separate and he flashes the statesman a sheepish smile. “Sorry for my delay father.”_

_The man laughs and passes him a goblet of wine and shakes his head. “I knew you would be along, Fidenziano, your favourite fighter has graced us once again. It will be a marvel to watch him demolish his opponents.”_

_Fidenziano nods as he is supposed to before moving to the edge to watch down below. Peasants still pour into the lower stands and vendors sell food and drink as they do; but none of it holds his attention._

_Not until the warriors stream from the underbelly with their swords and shields held high in expected triumph, the new slaves easy to pick out with their wide eyes; and there… there in the lead, dark hair and bronze skin gleaming in the late summer sun…_

_Is Pollione._

—

Finn has two feet on the ground before the taxi barely even has time to come to a complete stop; it’s only Poe calling him back that the younger man even remembers about their bags. 

“Sorry,” Finn chuckles, giving his husband a sheepish look as Poe shakes his head with his own fondness shining in brown eyes. 

Poe would laugh at the amount of his husband's excitement, but he finds it too endearing. He lets Finn gather the bags from the trunk as he pays the driver, chatting in easy Italian; despite the rather exuberant route the driver had had taken them on from their hotel, this has been one of Poe’s better taxi experiences in Italy. Plus Finn always likes to look at the scenery so Poe never complains. 

Together they make their way towards the front gate and while it’s not the way they’re supposed to come through, especially not with their luggage and kits, Poe can’t bring himself to drag Finn through the employee entrance, like the scenery, he always enjoys the way Finn’s eyes light when he sees the groups and tours of people enjoying the history they’re walking through.

Poe on the other hand kind of wishes they’d get out and stop littering on his monuments.

They drop their gear off with some of the other members of the archeological team, greet a few of the summer students and other workers before Finn is pulling his husband away. It’s only when he sees Rose standing by the door that Poe figures out why. 

“Good to see you again Tico!” Poe greets, wrapping the shorter woman up in his customary hug. “Despite the fact that you’ve been stealing all my husbands attention for the past few weeks.” 

Rose laughs, slings an arm around his waist in return and looks at Finn who is already heading towards her small dune buggy. “Been there, done that,” she muses. “Got left in the dust for the dead, same as you. You just handled it better than I did.” 

“Well,” Poe just grins, smiling wide as he looks out over the landscape, the volcano in the distance and the history it made all around them. “I wouldn’t change that passion of his for anything.”

\--

_Pollione shifts nervously on his feet. The despise he has for parties buried deep. For if nothing else, he hates the pomp and circumstance and the odd cruelty of not knowing whether or not it will be his head upon the end of a blade by the nights end for the sole amusement of the attendants._

_His sponsor announces his name to the assembled and Pollione casts his thoughts aside, striding out into the room, shoulders square, eyes front. Just like walking into the coliseum. Only somehow much, much worse._

_It shouldn’t be this nerve-racking but Pollione’s seen the eyes of hungry lions and yet, these people gaze at him with a darker sort of hunger. A sort of bloodlust he supposes. They incline their heads to greet him, and expect the back of his neck in return. They ask intrusive questions, and as their guest and their entertainment, he’s supposed to just answer politely. Does so and says nothing else._

_Barely an hour passes and he’s already itching to be free of this and back in the training grounds, sword in hand._

_“I suppose you’ve seen some of the newest frescos in the School Armaturarum Juventus Pompeiani upon your return?” A strong voice asks from almost behind him and Pollione is startled by the question. He turns to face the man- a man of power and wealth judging by his clothes- takes in the dark skin and wise eyes. “Or do gladiators lack time to appreciate the new art that adorns their walls, mind only of battle?” The man continues._

_Pollione does have a mind for battle, truly. But the new artwork that fills the building he and the other fighters gather in has had him staring at more walls lately than any time before; he shakes himself the tiniest bit and pastes on a smile._

_“I have. The work is amazing. Alas, I would not know a brush from a chisel,” Pollione says, ducking his head in a deprecating sort of way that garners a laugh from the crowd. “Yet even I know beauty when I see it. Whomever has the mind behind that is surely someone I would wish to commend.”_

_The larger man smiles wide, obviously pleased with his answer and beckons Pollione forward with a firm wave. “Then I have someone for you. Fidenziano.”_

_Pollione glances up then, follows the statesman gaze even as he takes a step back allowing a young man to cross the party toward them; and Pollione is absolutely floored by the bright, shy smile set below hopeful dark eyes coming his way._

_Oh, wow._

_Obviously the young man had been awaiting an introduction, if his eager expression is anything to go by, and his cloth- rich and colourful- mark him as someone important, though Pollione can not place him. The man's position and wealth should have Pollione on his guard as with all the rest, only this young man seems so different, If only in his eyes: easy, confident, kind._

_“Hello,” the young man breathes, placing a hand over his heart. He bows, and Pollione catches the scent of spiced oil wafting off his dark skin, hurriedly bows back as Fidenziano straightens. “It’s an honour to meet you.”_

_“T-the honour is mine,” Pollione barely gets out his mouth, caught up in the soft eyes pinning him to the spot. There’s no disdain there, only excitement. A hunger, yes, and while Pollione has seen enough hunger directed at him from various high ranking officials, this is different. There’s no want for his blood and Fidenzianos eyes are enough to make a pleasant heat pool in his gut._

_The senator claps a hand around the young man’s shoulders, giving him a fond shake and now Pollione can pick out the resemblance. “Fidenziano, our storied artist and my son.”_

_Pollione finally gets his wits about him and offers the young man the first real smile he’s given all night. “Beautiful work,” he murmurs, bowing back again. “To capture in such movement and colour the crude form of man…truly the gods have blessed you. Your paintings are so pleasing to the eye.”_

_There’s a quiet stunned silence in the people around him. Fidenziano’s lips part into a small, surprised ‘oh’. Perhaps for good reason, and Pollione maybe overstepped it with the compliment but truly, in that moment, Pollione’s certain he’s never seen a man so beautiful and never will again._

—

The excavation of the house is slow, painstaking slow. Weeks slide by and Finn is elbow deep in the dirt with Jessika in what they’re assuming is the front entry way into the small palace. Small coloured mosaic tiles are uncovered one by one, design still mostly intact save the the head of a lion and the left part of one of the figures, a depicted gladiator with raised shield; those parts lost to the large portions of archway that seems to have collapsed during the eruption.

Finn mourns the loss of it deeply, and Jessika is right there with him.

“Look at this detail.” Jess sighs, damp cloth running over the section she had been cleaning. 

“I know.” Finn replies, sadness in his own voice. 

“Can you imagine what this would have looked like complete?!”

Finn can.

“And in what equates to a summer house? All that money!” Jess growls staring at the mane of the lion as she pauses in her work. “I hate the rich s.o.b. already.” 

“You’re not even out of the entrance yet.” Poe piques up where he’s overseeing some workers further into the massive atria. There's several statues there that he’s been dying to get his gloved hands on and so he had moved on to oversee it’s removal.

Jess snorts and throws her rag at her friend. “I can hate him on principle.”

Finn makes a sound into his shoulder that Poe would bet any money is a laugh. Jess had said the same thing about him once upon a time after all. 

Rose shouting for them all draws their attention and Poe is quick to help Jess and Finn up onto the plywood catwalk and the three of them carefully climb out of the hole. The younger Tico meets them at the top , excitement barely contained.

Finn is already grabbing the tablet out of her hands, jaw dropping before Rose can’t hold the news in anymore.

The discovery of the bodies is a shock to everyone. 

\--

_By the fifth time Fidenziano pulls him away from the crowd and his training, Pollione thinks he’s finally figured out the young man's desire. He’s been prepared for it the moment Fidenziano first asked him away, however the artist and son has done no more than gaze at him with compliments._

_Finally Pollione takes it into his own hands, his own sensibility must finally know if all this kindness has only been a ploy for other carnal wants. “You need not flatter me so my lord.” Pollione muses, unsure how to act even now to the other man's jubilant behaviour. “If you wish it, I am yours for the night.”_

_His status as a gladiator leaves him with no other course. But he feels, perhaps if he is ordered to a bed that has Fidenziano in it, it would not be as cruel as it has been in the past with the others._

_But it is not with any sort of heady arousal that Fidenziano turns to him with; a heat yes, but more a warmth buried neath a simmering ire. “I would not order you Pollione-” he starts._

_“You may call me Poe.” He interrupts and Pollione is surprised by himself. His shortened name, usually reserved for his fellow warriors and trainers, and now he offers it to Fidenziano freely._

_“Poe.” Fidenziano’s smile returns slowly, and oh, the moments of it’s absence Pollione didn’t know he was counting._

_Oh. Pollione thinks. This will not end well. Drops his gaze demurely, hopes the fading dusk hides the red neath his eyes. “My apologies for the interruption.”_

_A bright laugh curls through the empty balcony and Fidenziano raises a hand to cup a stubbled cheek to bring Pollione’s face back up. “Poe is it? Then Poe you shall be. Had I another name, I would ask you to call me that.”_

_“From Fidenzinao?” Pollione can’t help but be completely taken in now, the soft tug at his own lips easy to see in the fading candle light from inside that reflects and dances in dark onyx orbs; offers, “Mayhap, just Fin? It would suit you.”_

_“Fin?” The artist tests it, curls it around his tongue and feels the heat rise to the cheek skin beneath his hand once more. Grins; and whispers, “Lovely, provided you are the one to call me it.”_

_Pollione wants so desperately to look away, to run; but his legs while so normally agile in the ring, feel like nothing more than the trunks of overgrown olive trees, Fidenzinao’s hand- no, Fin’s hand rooting him to the balcony. “A-and when may I call you Fin?” His question errs on the side of breathless and Pollione can’t help the way he is drawn to the younger man. “If you are not to order me to your bed.”_

_Fidenzinao grins and it is such a pleasant thing. “I did say I would not order you,” he says. “But if I ask it of you… I would find myself bereft should you retire this night alone.”_

_“You speak as beautifully as you sculpt, I’m afraid there is no way I could possibly deny you.” Pollione should. He’s fighting tomorrow, and Fidenziano has given him a choice. An actual choice. But Pollione suddenly finds he does wish to follow the artist away. This night and many more; wishes to see that shy eager face over his and those warm broad hands in his own._

—

“Rey wants to meet up for lunch in Rome.” Poe says staring at the postcard with the familiar hen-scratch Finn’s best friend likes to call handwriting.

Finn makes a non-committal sound, completely focused on the excavation of the casts. 

“Hello. Finn, lunch?” No answer. “With Rey?” Just more scraping. Poe sighs. “Oh darling dearest, sweetheart and light of my life… would you care for pizza-esque refreshments with the darling bird of yours that hates me?” 

“Rey doesn’t hate you.” Finn mutters without looking up, still scraping away dirt from the plaster of the first cast. He had shooed the rest of the team away, intent on doing this part himself, despite the grief Leia has given him about not using the assigned students she was supposedly paying and the workers, blah blah…. Finn had tuned his mother out halfway through, focusing instead on that one curl on the back of Poe’s head that always seemed to break free of the men's gel first. 

Finn still doesn’t look up when Poe drops down behind him to wrap both arms around his waist, careful not to hit anything and all without disturbing Finn's process. A practiced dance they had learned to execute on every dig-site. 

“Yes she does, she hates me as much as Caligula despised making a sane decision.” Poe pouts, watching as Finn pauses below him.

His husband casts curious dark eyes over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow at Poe. “Spending time with Hux again?”

Poe whines, suddenly letting go of Finn to grab a pair of gloves from Finn's work kit and an air drill as he slides carefully off the plywood catwalk. “He cornered me. It was awful. I mean the man’s like a modern day living breathing Alcubierre.” 

They both grimace, but Finn is the first to recover, placing a kiss to Poe’s forehead before moving over to give the older man more room next to him. It’s tight corners, between the mosaic on the floor that Jessika has slowly been uncovering into this section, and what Finn denotes as part of the outside stone wall of the house that the bodies are against, but they make it work.

“She does hate me though.” Poe muses minutes later. “She thinks I stole you away from your safe life of academia.”

“You did.” Finn smirks, glancing up from his work with a radiant smile. He truly hadn’t known what he was missing until Poe waltzed into his classroom and dragged him out. “And I love you for it every day.”

“Get a room you two.” Rose mutters as she jumps down into the pit behind them. She rolls her eyes at her two friends, and technically two bosses, before demanding updates after her day off. 

\--

_Pollione feels tousled when he wakes, ache from his victory the previous day fading pleasantly in light of a different pull in his muscles, and the warrior can only stretch easily into it as visions from the previous night return to him. Of Fidenziano luring him to his chambers and making Pollione claw into soft sheets and shout his pleasures into stone walls._

_The space next to him is empty and Pollione shakes his head at Fidenziano’s cool spot, his lover, Pollione has learned, is a fan of the early morning light. It takes no lack of monumental effort for him to rise, and the warrior washes quickly with the small tub of water before donning his clothes and going to search for Fidenziano._

_It proves not much of a challenge however as Pollione crosses the atria of the small palace, the size and artwork still such a wonder to him even after all these months. Pollione steps easily to a room towards the back of Fidenziano’s house, where one wall is absent, filled with the ocean and allowing in all the sunlight his artist could ever need. This room, like the rest, filled with colourful frescoes and half finished carvings of Fidenziano’s work._

_Pollione can not help the way his face turns red however when he sees what Fidenziano is currently working on… A half hewn sculpture that bears a remarkable resemblance to himself._

_“Please tell me you are not craving my likeness into anything else.” Pollione groans, embarrassed, coming further into the room to wrap his arms around Fidenziano's waist from behind, ever so careful not to disrupt the artist's work. Something Pollione has become very careful not to do. “What is this, dried clay?”_

_“Plaster before marble my friend,” Fidenziano chuckles reaching up with dirty fingers to brush a lock of hair away from Polline’s eyes. “And before even that, one must have living breathing beauty to inspire a shape.”_

_“Have the people of this city not been subjected to my image long enough?” The warrior teases._

_“Hush amore mio…I will paint you a thousand times and never tire of you.” Fidenziano laughs, turning back to his work. “Perhaps then Poe, you shall not complain should I paint us both together whilst still abed…”_

_Pollione breaks away with a startled laugh, moves to sit up on the stool the artist had brought in for him. “Now I feel that would truly give us away to the peasants and your father.” He breaks Fidenziano’s attention from the timeless argument by removing his shirt and leaning back into the sunlight._

_No, Pollione could not hurt Fidenziano’s image so._

—

Poe’s not sure why he awakens, drool sticking the small hotel pillow to his cheek, at least not until his eyes crack open to see the light on and Finn sitting up against the headboard. A stack of large photos in hand and a pensive look on his face. They had gotten in late off a flight from Philadelphia and Poe had had no energy to do anything short of falling into bed next to Finn.

“Yers’oppsed ta`be sleepin`.”

Finn doesn’t look away from the photo he’s studying at the weird garble from the lump next to him, merely hums under his breath instead and reaches out to set a hand on his husband's shoulder, skin warm in the cool nights of fading summer. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” He whispers.

Brown eyes slip closed once more and Poe shuffles over until he’s pressing his face into the bare skin of Finn’s hip and sliding his arms over the younger man's stomach, through the space between his back and the headboard so he can cuddle as close as possible. “S`fine…” Poe does his best to gather a bit of his wits about him. “What`cha looking at?”

“You can go back to sleep, I know the flight was long for you.” Finn whispers, shifting to block most of the light with a doting smile. “You can see these in the morning.”

Poe sighs and in a move born of experience, licks firm and wet over the warm dark skin he is leaning his cheek against. Rose had clearly left pictures at their suite for them and Poe would like to see them despite his tiredness. .

Finn barely cuts off a yelp and smacks him with the photos, clearly unimpressed. “Fine, let me keep you up all night then.” 

“Promises, promises.” Poe chuckles and finally pulls himself upwards, moving until he’s draped over Finn’s shoulder, staring at what’s kept his husbands attention through their relatively short night. “Damn, Rose’s made some headway while we were at that stupid conference.”

The photos are a mish-mash of their excavation site. Jess asleep on the corner of the mosaic floor that’s much larger than when they left, more small colourful tiles denoting the wealth of the owner set in sweeping intricacies all the way from wall to wall. There’s photos of some of the recently uncovered statues, and Poe, unsurprisingly, has money riding on a site-wide bet that the owner of the house is an artist of every sort, with the amassed collections found in some of the rooms they’ve cleared out. Sculpted marble and half finished Frescoes. 

There’s a picture of their third hired Art Restorer next to Hux and one of those half recovered Frescoes; both figures red in the face from yelling and Poe hopes the rather angry woman was brave enough to chase off their most hated co-worker. Doubts his luck in the same breath.

However it’s the last two photos that really capture Poe’s attention, and he slides himself off his husband to sit up on his own, clicking his lamp on so he can see better. It’s the casts made of the bodies found in the rear of the house they had been working to uncover before being called away and- Holy shit.

“Holy shit.” Poe sighs, tracing over the photo with a reverence that makes Finn love him all the more for its gentleness despite his intrigue.

“I know.” Finn sighs; shifts until he’s the one pressed against Poe’s side and they can look at the images together. “Apparently Leia’s identified both of the bodies as male from the x-rays.” He pokes the next photo down and Poe flips to it, jaw dropping at the photo of said x-ray. 

“Is that a sword?” Then Poe’s gaze takes in the rest of the highlighted metal on the image. “Fuck me… So this guy wasn’t just a rich sonofabitch, he was a massively wealthy fucker.”

Finn rolls his eyes. Not how he would have framed it, but the proof is in the pictures. While the man with the sword has what they’ve found on most other people, layered clothes fit for travel and other small items of importance, the other man is covered beyond even the wealth found in the main city… rings and bracelets, necklaces and clasps. Gold and heavy layers of fabric shown clear on the x-ray.

“Leia assumes royalty, wealthy politician at the very least.” Finn chuckles. 

“Well damn,” Poe grimaces around a yawn. “So much for my artist idea.”

“Sorry you lost your bet babe.” Finn presses a kiss to the still sleep warm bronze skin of Poe’s shoulder even as he pulls away the photos. “Go back to sleep babe, we’ll look at them in the morning.”

When the next morning comes, Finn quietly hands the photo of the x-ray back into his husband's hands and points out what Poe was too tired to see the previous night.

The boulder crushing the leg of the wealthy man, breaking the leg almost clean in two. 

Poe’s heart breaks at the sight of it. Escape impossible with such damage.

Then he has to sit down altogether, tears streaking down his cheeks as he finally takes in the way the bodies of the two men are clasping so desperately to each other. Bones of their fingers laced and their heads pressed together where they’re lying on the floor… as close as lovers.

Later, further x-rays will show that the male warrior was completely unharmed. 

Poe knows, deep down in the part of his soul that has always been with the remains of the dead; that the warrior simply refused to leave the other man alone.

\--

_Pollione feels his grin stretch easily across his face and while it feels slick and twisted, it is also entirely earned. Around him the heavy heat of the day strikes down through the stands and Poe raises his sword aloft, the cry of the gathered crowds a din past the rushing vengeance building in his blood._

_The man, Fidenzinao’s would-be assassin, Pollione reminds himself; cowers before him, shield lost and sword held low like he has never fought a day in his life. The wretch. Pollione would feel a bit of sympathy for the look of him had he not been the cretin that had dared to slip into Fidenzinao’s room, dagger in hand, and pocket full of gold._

_However, much to the assassins surprise, It had been Pollione himself that had sprung to wakefulness at the smallest sound. The ensuing scuffle no more than a thud, a shout, and a blood curdling scream; and it had taken all of Fidenzinao words to calm his warrior enough to send the assassin before his father and judge alive._

_And after, Fidenzinao’s father had looked at Pollione with deadly intent and the deed was set._

_‘A gift of honour for my son's new protector. Gladiator you are no longer, warrior Pollione, for I have seen to it that you will remain by Fidenzinao’s side until the end of your days.’_

_Pollione relishes in the moment, in the fear on the face of the assassin now, crowd thirsty for a fight that he intends to end with their much desired bloodshed. The wound to his own hand and torso from this man is nothing to him, nothing he would not harbour again and again until infection set in if it would keep any steel from that beautiful, unblemished, dark skin._

_Polliones last act in the Coliseum that he thought one day would claim his life, is now instead to bring an end the life of the man that tried to take Fidenzinao’s._

_He brings his sword down, justice and vengeance in a single fell that has the crowd cheering. Yet above all else, Pollione can feel the heat of dark eyes upon his back and the possessiveness Fidenzinao is now allowed to show the world by the process of owning him._

_Pollione does not mind in the least._

—

Rey’s third visit actually puts her in Naples with them and Poe waves from the platform as the train pulls in. He nudges his husband next to him who is still on the phone and Poe can do no more than roll his eyes when Finn holds up a finger to hold him off another minute.

“Still buried in work I see.” Rey muses as she disembarks, pulling Poe into a quick hug. They’ve gotten better at being friendly for Finn’s sake but they still end up arguing more often than not when they meet. Especially when Finn is as absorbed in something as he currently is and doesn’t stop them before they get out of hand. 

Poe still remembers the time they ended up throwing hands over an ancient Persian tomb Rey’s boss Luke had asked Poe to look at, and… yeah.

“You know Finn.” He promptly grabs his husband's arm, then the phone out of his hand and all but throws Finn at Rey. Poe laughs as he presses the phone to his own ear. “Ciao Ministro! è Poe!… Si, si-riguardo ai corpi-”

“Well, good to see he’s useful for something.” Rey chuckles, leaning in to hug her friend who returns the embrace with gusto. “So! Tell me all about this gladiator of yours and his oh-so-rich sugar daddy.”

Dinner passes by in a haze of Casavecchia, pizza and Finn talking non-stop about The Lovers. How wounds on the warrior’s skeleton prove that he was once a Gladiator and that it is of no doubt to anyone that the face plastering the frescoes around the palace are his. Painted so lovingly that no one at the dig site had been able to refute Poe’s title of the two men. Finn tells Rey that the reconstructed face of the Prince made Poe pause and mutter ‘Lovely’ under his breath, so revertant Finn almost got a little jealous. He tells her all the facts he can remember and some they’re all speculating on.

It’s only when Rey gets up to go to the washroom that Finn turns to his husband and has to pause at the silly wine-drunk and altogether gooey expression on Poe's face. “What?”

Poe shrugs, and tosses his foot over Finn’s under the table. “Nothing.” He laughs, but proceeds to prove himself wrong by immediately adding. “I just like watching you talk about them. That passion? Reminds me why I love you so much.”

Finn rolls his eyes, his own smile going soft at the edges and he can’t help but kiss Poe until Rey comes back.

—

_Pollione's scars have barely healed, satisfaction barely settled in the few weeks since his reinstatement as Fidenziano’s permanent bodyguard. From soldier to Gladiator to something akin to a kept man, Pollione thinks wildly as he trains, not yet willing to let his sword nor wits go dull._

_So he trains, and that is how Fidenziano finds him, in the midst of the atria, dodging around the various statues he has created in previous years._

_“You shone so brightly in the arena.” Fidenziano chuckles, drawing Pollione's attention, and dark eyes travel down the sweaty expanse of bare chest now within his grasp every moment of the day. “Yet outside of it, you are a vision I could never capture in any medium.”_

_Pollione lets out a startled laugh. Fidenziano’s words curling inside his breast and alighting a fire in his blood. Never would he have dared thought to end up so lucky. He sheathes his sword before making his way across the courtyard to lean against the column that Fidenziano held himself up on. “You continue to flatter me Fin, holy unneeded.”_

_“Unneeded you say?” Mirth colours Fidenziano’s voice. “I have sent away the slaves to my Fathers.” Brown eyes raise in confusion and Pollione feels it when Fidenziano steps closer to press him against the rounded marble. “And made notice to not be interrupted for a fortnight.”_

_“Do you think that wise, after the attempt on your life?” Pollione asks as Fidenziano trails a hand up his chest to rest on the breadth of his neck; heat follows his touch like lighting in the skies._

_Fidenziano’s grin is wide and bright with an edge of slyness. “How could I be anything less than safe, with you by my side and in my bed.”_

_Pollione can not argue with such a statement, especially not when Fidenziano takes hold of his hand to draw him away through the house._

_“Now there is a task of utmost importance to attend too.” The artist chuckles, mock stern tone. “Because I know you would not deny me… because I know you love me as I love you and it is what I want.”_

_Pollione freezes, feels his heart stutter in it’s beats. He can not mean; “Fin, oh my Fin, no.”_

_Fidenziano traces the freshly healed scar on his lover's hand with his lips and Pollione sees his misgivings start to sway to the unreasonable request. How has he become so weak to one man? The merest thought of that beautiful dark skin laid bare beneath him, a spit in the face of Fidenziano’s wealth and standing, it is more than Pollione has the strength to deny._

_Broad hands of a warrior, so bloodied and unworthy to touch the gods-made man before him, raise and Pollione pulls Fidenziano flush to him, kisses that secret desire into silence, prays that it would stay there._

_“I would risk anything for you my Poe,” Fidenziano mutters, breathless against his lips. “Infamia; all aspects of the faceless world to know that I love you.”_

_“I would sooner be put to death.” Pollione gasps as he presses the skin of his cheek to Fidenzianos. Trails kisses down dark skin, spice scented and warm and allows the artist to pull him down to cover him upon the bed. “Please, think of the ramifications should we be found out.”_

_Fidenziano pulls sharply on the ends of dark curls threaded through his fingers, catches strands though the golden rings he wears as he draws his lovers face to his, revels in the broken sound Pollione makes at the action. “I am a man of my own choices Poe, but this is a desire I will trust to no one else, save you.”_

_His own desperate fingers claw into the mattress on either side of Fidenziano’s head and Pollione gives in. Could no more resist anything asked of him than a hungry lion could a slab of meat._

_Against every aspect, there is no wealth, no social standing, no glory in the arena that could best Pollione the prize in taking the man beneath him. And by the Heavens, he will make Fidenziano scream to the Gods._

\--

Finn can’t help the way he clutches to Poe’s shirtsleeve as the casts are lifted out of their resting area, slowly and oh so carefully by the small crane. They knew this was coming and yet Finn can barely breath past the sudden anxiety clawing at his chest. Every part of him has felt on edge since the team from the museum had shown up, and had anyone asked, Finn wouldn’t be able to explain to anyone why he’s suddenly so against the removal. Not even Poe he thinks. Poe who has been watching him worriedly all day.

Because Finn can’t explain it at all. Can’t wrap his mind around how he wants to yell at everyone present that the Warrior and the Prince— The Lovers, as Poe has taken to calling them; should just stay right fucking here here. That the something deep inside of Finn, from so long ago when he first opened his Encyclopaedia Britannica and had immediately fallen in love with the old culture, this old city and it’s terribly fated occupant’s, is whispering to him now with that same sense of love and gravity. 

That in the bowels of some new-aged museum is not the place for these two men. These two who clung so desperately to one other in the last few seconds they had with each other in this home of theirs.

And Finn doesn’t know what he’s going to do… just knows he’s got to do something. 

—

_“And what, pray tell, are you doing to the floor now?” Pollione laughs as he enters under the archway, halting on a dime to keep from stepping on the familiar tools of what he has learned, are needed to make the mosaics that shine like gemstone tapestries throughout his lovers palace._

_“Hello, amore mio.” Fidenziano greets absently, not looking up from his work._

_“You are aware that it is not fit for a man of your wealth and stature to be on his knees as such.” Pollione muses, crossing his arms and watching the shift of smooth skin before him that labours for his passion without care._

_“Yes,” Those endless sparkling eyes finally glance up at his protector, expression flat. “But had I to hire a lesser artist to do what I can readily make would be a terrible waste of my floor space.”_

_Pollione snorts under his breath, careful as he follows in the allotted spaces that Fidenziano points out to him, until he is at last by the other man's side. Taking in the work already done Pollione can feel the never failing flush rising to his cheeks when he recognizes the shape of his old armour, now laid out brown stones of various sizes. “You must put me on the floor Fin, my love, truly?”_

_“Do you recognize all of it?” Fidenziano chuckles, motioning to the half done mosaic he’s creating in the entryway._

_Carefully Pollione reaches out to draw Fidenziano’s face towards his and the kiss is as soft as his heart. “Yes,” he says when they part, and he drops his head to Fidenziano’s bare shoulder to look across his artist's creation. “The roses you love by the grape-vines. The Ibis your father has bought… And myself, with the lion I bested and tamed many years ago.”_

_“Yes.” Fidenziano rests his own cheek upon Pollione’s hair and grins dumbly into the soft waves. “The first bout in which I laid eyes on you.”_

_“Really?”_

_“Indeed. The kindness you belied a wild animal, when you so readily smote your opponents to the roar of the crowd.” The younger man sighs, remembers so vividly that Summer’s Eve he was pulled into this, into a love he had only ever heard tales and songs about. “You garnered my attention and have kept it._

_Pollione rolls his eyes and marvels at the colourful tiles; embarrassed as he is, it is truly a master's work. “And pray tell, when do you suppose this floor of yours shall be finished? In time for food?”_

_“Sooner, should you deign to help a Statesmans son so with the cutting.” Fidenziano nudges his lover towards the tools he has so easily stepped over on his way in._

_Brown eyes roll towards the heavens and Pollione sighs, “Truly, must be love indeed then, alright, come, show me what to do so that I may drag you to food and bed sooner rather than later.”_

_Fidenziano laughs and takes hold of his hands to show him._

\--

Poe’s gone for over a week and the workspace of the small palace no longer feels welcoming. With the casts gone and the lack of his husband, not even Jessika showing him her completed flooring, or Hux snapping at him from the newly unveiled frescoes that have been so remarkably well preserved, not even Rose telling him the newly uncovered names of the men is enough to cheer his mood.

Finn isn’t even aware of when his husband finally returns, not until Poe is suddenly before him and waving a file folder in front of his face.

“Brought you a present.” Poe grins, and it’s all teeth. Fabulous and smart in a way that makes him look years younger… and also like he should have gone into modelling instead of archaeology. Finn digresses and takes the folder from his husband with a quick welcome back kiss.

“This is all in Italian.” Finn blinks up from the paper moments later; because while he’s gotten really good at speaking Italian, his ability to read it is a few hundred centuries behind.

Poe picks the folder back from him and worms himself into Finn's arms. “That, my dearest darling Finn… is all the strings I could pull and every favour I was owed by each and every nice museum curator and cultural official I have ever charmed.”

Finn doesn’t know where this is going, but Gods he hopes Poe didn’t just suddenly become the owner of a country… he doesn’t know if he could deal with that today.

“Your Lovers are coming home.” 

The folder hits the ground and Poe’s yelp gets cut off halfway as Finn picks him, twirling him around and kisses him for all he’s worth.

\--

_The ground quakes suddenly neath Pollione’s feet and ere around him people slip and fall to the cobblestone. Every clay jug upon a countertop sitting in the open doors of the restaurants, full both of water and wine, shudder and smash to pieces upon the ground as people scream and clutch to one another._

_It’s only his years in the arena that allow him to keep his feet._

_“POLLIONE!”_

_The shout to his back almost makes him fall but it's Fidenzinao’s familiar tone, racked with fear now that makes Pollione stumble his way to his lover, wrapping a strong arm around Fidenzinao’s waist to help keep him upright._

_Minutes pass and just as suddenly as the tremors start, they end._

_“What do you suppose that was?” Pollione whispers into the eerie quiet that befalls the crowd as they wait with bated breath for the shaking to continue._

_It does not._

_In the distance however, a voice rings out; “THE GODS HAVE BEEN ANGERED!”_

_Fidenzinao frowns, “This happens often now, even yesterday, but I fear that is the strongest I have ever felt.”_

_Pollione bites his lip and helps steady the man in his arms even as his defensive stance drops. “Perhaps it is time to vacation elsewhere..."_

_“Truly?” Fidenzinao grins at him and nudges his warrior with his shoulder. “Then let us leave at first light tomorrow.”_

_“So soon?” Pollione chuckles, stepping across the raised stones to cross the street. “Have you been planning?”_

_“To whisk you away to quiet and peace so I may paint you everyday?” Dark eyes glitter in amusement. “Only from the first day I saw you.”_

—

“Tell me their names.” Jessika says, flicking at one of Roses customary pig tails.

“Pollione,” Rose whispers, staring across the fully excavated palace. Years of their lives put into bringing this place back to life and she’s just starting to realize how much she’s going to miss it. “and Fidenziano.”

Jessika snorts inelegantly, drawing the shorter woman to her in a one armed hug. “Huh… kind of sounds like Poe and Finn.”

Rose’s laughter echoes off the colourful stone walls, and for a single moment, they can picture two other people sitting there and laughing with each other in days lost.

“Don’t tell them that, we get enough sappy kisses out of them already.”  
\--

_“I have sent the slaves into town for aid.” Pollione whispers, clutching Findenzinao’s trembling hands to his own, can not bring himself to look down at his lover's leg… or whatever remains of it. The rocks that have fallen from the heavens after the last great tremble of the Earth. A warning of the years, gone unheeded and now the city scrambles to flee._

_“Poe… Poe… my Pol-lione.” Findenzinao gasps harshly, wet sounds of pain and anguish._

_His heart feels splintered inside his chest, hateful to himself that he can not protect Fidenzinao from this act of the Gods. Could not stop the destruction of the mountain to protect the man he loves, and carefully Pollione lowers himself onto the ground, to lay before the younger man and places his head against Fidenzinao’s, who seems calmed by the action._

_“Shhh… amore mio… i’m not going anywhere… sono qui Fidenzinao.”_

_The heat and dust fall._

—

“So, you never did tell me.” Poe mutters as he lifts his face away from where it had collapsed into the pillow, having no strength left in him after Finn had gotten a hold of him as they came back to their room.

Next to him, naked as the day he was born and as glorious as every day since Poe had met him, Finn makes a low curious sound. His voice hoarse as he chuckles. “Tell you what? That I love you today?”

The older man snorts and carefully shuffles himself up onto his elbows, body aching pleasantly. “No, you’ve told me that already thanks... and I love you too.” 

Dark eyes take in his husband's ruffled hair and the line of fresh bites along his collarbone that threaten to darken beautifully. “Then what?”

“Why was it so important to you to have The Lovers in the house? You never said anything about any of the other bodies we ever found. What made these two so different?”

Finn pauses. It’s so hard to explain. Mostly because he’s not a hundred percent sure himself. “You ever just-“ He starts but the words are wrong and Finn snaps his jaw shut in annoyance. It’s only when Poe reaches out to lay a warm hand on the centre of his stomach that Finn tries again. “Have you ever had the feeling that… something is supposed to be a- a known constant? Sort of? Like it’s supposed to be ‘that’ way, and anything else is just… wrong?” 

Two sets of dark eyes meet across the messy bed and slowly they roll together, facing one another until they're sharing breath along with their love. “That the universe just sorts of slots into the right spot when you see it… and you don’t want it to be any other way.”

Poe does. Gods does he ever.

“It’s like that. Like the world doesn’t make sense if they aren’t in their home, that their story isn’t right if they’re away from it… and I know it’s weird to feel a connection to people who have been dead over 2000 years… and to a house even; but…” Finn pauses. Feels a little silly for asking, but Poe is his husband first and foremost; he knows the weirdest parts of Finn and loves him anyways. Finn couldn’t explain his husband's reasoning even if he tried. Asks instead; “Have you ever felt anything like that?” 

Poe’s smile is almost blinding, eyes crinkling and cheeks round as his lips turn up more and more; because throughout his many years of teaching he was for once, just asked a very easy question. “Yes.” He breathes out quietly, reverent. “Once.”

Finn frowns curiously. 

“When I walked into a classroom and met the smartest, most beautiful man I’d ever been lucky enough to lay eyes on.”


End file.
